


Image Reflected

by badvibrations



Category: Real Person Fiction
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-10
Updated: 2019-05-10
Packaged: 2020-02-29 06:33:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18773194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badvibrations/pseuds/badvibrations
Summary: Taron never took you to cheap motels, but things sometimes change.





	Image Reflected

**Author's Note:**

> I posted this on my Tumblr as well; I suppose I like cross-posting. Hope you guys enjoy! More coming soon.

You are driving while Taron relaxes in the passenger seat, sunglasses over his eyes; you had picked him up from the airport several minutes before, but he had barely spoken since. You let out a soft sigh, reaching to turn up the radio to quell awkward, silent atmosphere. In the back of your mind, you cannot help but feel uneasy, concerned that he was upset with something you had done, but as you wrack your brain, you cannot come to a conclusion.

“Pull in there,” Taron says, interrupting your thoughts and pulling you back to reality. Glancing to the direction that Taron points, you see a cheap motel that you had driven by multiple times on the drive between the airport to your apartment. You shoot a look towards Taron, noting that he has not taken his eyes off of the building.

With a slight defeated sigh, you pull into the dirt lot beside the motel, and hook around beneath the carport. No sooner do you have the vehicle in park, when Taron is climbing from the car and shutting the door behind him without another word. You watch, confused, as Taron enters the lobby and speaks to man at the desk. After a brief exchange, Taron exits the building and gestures for you to roll the window down.

“Room eight,” he says, before walking away, in the direction of the room. You do not immediately follow him, still utterly lost as to what was happening. When you watch him unlock the door and leave it ajar as he enters the room, you hurriedly park the car in the spot out front.

Looking at the exterior of the building, you cannot help but feel more uncertain; the pink and blue paint scraping from the stucco combined with the palm trees and cheap lawn furniture gave you an odd feeling of nostalgia for something that you did not recognize. Quickly, you enter the room and close the door behind you, spotting Taron sitting in a chair across the room, legs crossed as he stares at you.

You walk slowly about the room, biting your lip as you study the decor; generally, Taron would take you to a more extravagant location when you were not staying at one another’s homes, but your current venue leaves much to be desired. The brown carpet and multi-colored bedspread a drastic contrast to the walls outside, still left you feeling lost, wishing you were at your own home instead of this bizzare motel in the middle of nowhere.

“Taron, what are we doing here?” you ask finally. His gaze is hard, jaw clenched as his arms rest on the chair. When he still does not reply, you let out a sigh, crossing your arms over your chest, an almost self-conscious feeling beginning to wash over you. “My place is twenty minutes away,” you continue. “We don’t need to stay in some seedy motel, it’s still light out.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Taron replies. Your face scrunches in confusion, waiting for Taron to elaborate; when no explanation is given, you drop your arms and release an agitated groan, turning on your heel to retrieve your phone from the car. “Stop,” Taron says, halting you in your tracks. “Look at me.” You do as requested, facing him once again to await his next comment. “Take your clothes off,” he commands, as he reaches to his side and adjusts the vertical blinds to assure they are closed completely.

“Why?” you scoff. Taron turns his head back towards you, face still unchanging.

“Because I told you to.” Staring at Taron for another moment, you see a very faint nod of his head, suggesting that you listen to him; you quickly kick your shoes off, but stop when Taron clears his throat. “Slowly,” he says.

“Are you going to take yours off?” you ask, nodding your head towards him. “You look so nice, I’ll be a little underdressed.” Taron finally allows a small quirk at the corner of his mouth, before letting out a small chuckle.

“In due time.”

You slowly tug your t-shirt up your body, stopping beneath your breasts to gauge Taron’s reaction; when he does not flinch, you remove the shirt entirely, discarding it to the side. Next, you unbutton your jeans, tugging them open to reveal the top of your panties. Taron tilts his head, narrowing his eyes as he watches you work the jeans lower to give him a better look at the thin strips of the thong you are wearing.

If you are not mistaken, you are certain you hear a small hum of approval from Taron, which gives you a slight push; you slowly work your hand into the front of your panties, fingertips barely touching your folds before Taron reacts.

“Now, now,” he says. “That’s my job, not yours. Hands off.” Deciding to play a game of your own, you ignore his command and move your hand further to rub your clit. Taron tsks his disapproval, shaking his head. “I guess we aren’t listening today,” he says, with a faint smirk.

“Are you gonna do something about it?” you tease, retracting your hand so you can begin to work your jeans and panties down your hips. Taron shakes his head slowly.

“Until you start listening to me, I won’t be doing anything.” You stare at him for a moment, then shake off the comment, pushing your clothing from your legs and standing upright once more. With Taron’s eyes still watching, you reach behind your back and unhook your bra, throwing it to the side with the rest of your clothing.

You stood completely naked before him, awaiting further instructions; however, Taron stayed silent, not moving an inch as he kept his gaze set on you. You shifted your weight back and forth between your feet for a moment, before crossing your arms over your chest to shield yourself from him.

“What should I do now?” you ask, quietly. He still does not speak, only continues to stare. “Taron, c’mon,” you push. “I’m sorry, I’ll listen. Just tell me what you want me to do.”

“Oh, you’ve decided that I’m in control, is that right?” he asked, sitting up higher in his seat. “If you’re so sorry, come over here and show me.” Staring back for another moment, you watch Taron, uncross his legs and scoot his hips lower; he spreads his knees apart enough to give space for you to kneel there.

Your bottom lip moves between your teeth while you move towards him, lowering slowly to your knees in front of him. Taron blinks slowly, smugness clear on his face from seeing you do exactly as he tells you to do. You reach towards him, unfastening his slacks and slipping his length free from his briefs.

You slowly begin to work your hand over him, fixing your gaze onto Taron to see that he still keeps a steady stare on you. Dropping your eyes down to his lap once more, you slip him into your mouth, finally earning a much awaited quiet groan of pleasure from the feeling of your lips wrapping around him.

“Deeper,” he says immediately, placing his hand on the back of your head. “Deep as you can.” Relaxing your jaw, you very slowly take him deeper into your mouth, but Taron tightens his grip on your hair, forcing your head down to hurry you along on your task. When you feel him hitting you in your throat, you gag slightly at the intrusion, having not taken him quite so far before. “Keep still,” he whispers.

Doing as you are told, you place your hands on your own thighs, digging your fingers into your skin to move focus from your gag reflex. You swallow around him, hollowing out your cheeks so you earned a grunt from Taron, who quickly pulls you off of him; you gasp for air looking up at him. There is a slight agitation on his face, but his smug smirk wins out as he reaches his other hand to rub his thumb across your lips.

“Keep going,” he instructed, leaning back against the chair and setting his hands on the armrests.

Swallowing hard, you dip back in towards him, working him into your mouth once again. You keep your hand along the rest of him, stroking what you cannot handle in your mouth; Taron moans ever-so softly, clearly making an effort to keep control of himself and the situation. You hum quietly, twisting your hand as you stroke but pulling him even deeper into your mouth.

“Hmm, there’s a good girl.”

You set and maintained a pace, not fast enough to bring him near his climax, but enough to take your time with him. He continues to let out the soft groans you often longed to hear when he was not around, the ones you thought of when you were alone at night and in need of his touch.

As you would often do on those nights, you lower your hand between your thighs, fingers gently coming in contact with the dampness there; emitting a soft whimper of your own at the feeling, you rest back onto your heels to push yourself closer to your hand. With a small groan, you circle your fingers around your clit, and take Taron into your mouth without the assistance of your hand. Steadily bobbing your head over his lap, you rub yourself in time with the actions, but are abruptly brought to a halt by Taron gripping your shoulder.

“You can’t help yourself, can you?” he asks, as you lift your head to peer up at him. For a moment, you are uncertain of what he is referring to, until he reaches for your wrist to pull your hand from between your thighs.

“Taron,” you whisper.

“On the bed,” he instructs.

You waste no time, tossing the top blankets to the floor, and then sit on the edge of the bed, peering at Taron expectantly. He tucks himself into his slacks once more before he stands from the seat; he steps towards you, he begins to lean over you. With a smirk, you lean back until you drop onto your elbows, so Taron has no choice but to lean closer, setting his hands on the mattress beneath you to box you between his arms.

“You enjoy being a tease, don’t you?” he whispers, his eyes searching your face until they finally came to a stop on your mouth. “Touching yourself after I told you not to. That is what got you here to begin with.” Your brows knit together in confusion as Taron’s statement, but before you have the opportunity to ask what he meant, he leans in closer so his lips are painfully close to yours. “What is it, darling?” he asks. “You want to kiss me?”

“Yes,” you breathe. You lean closer to him, but each movement you make, Taron counters by tilting away so that your lips never touch. Whimpering softly, you look at Taron with frustration apparent in your eyes, but he only chuckles at your plight.

“You get needy when you’re horny,” he points out. “You lose focus, struggle to be a good girl, isn’t that right?” Again, you attempt to speak, but Taron quickly shoves you onto your back, then moves back to his prior position on the chair. “How many times did you pleasure yourself while I was away?”

The question catches you entirely off guard, as you stare back at the quiet intensity in his eyes. Earlier in the week, you had been searching for something to watch on television, and found Kingsman, deciding to watch it for the first time in a while. It was halfway into the movie when you found yourself becoming turned on watching Taron throughout the various scenes: his snapback, his suit, the fight scenes, the attitude, everything began to twist your insides, working up into a frenzy that would not go away so easily.

You are unsure of how Taron knows what you had done, but you are certain there was no way that you would be able to convince him he was wrong. He is exceptionally good at getting the truth out of you, most of the time without you knowing what he was doing. His voice breaks your from your thoughts, and you know that you have been found out.

“You recall our promise to one another?” he inquires.

“We don’t get off without each other,” you respond. “But, Taron--”

“Show me.”

“Show you what?”

“Show me exactly how you touched yourself, since it seems that you can do it better than I can. I mean, that must be the reason you decided to break our rule.” You know there is no point in arguing with him, so you only swallow hard, moving your hand between your thighs as you keep your eyes on him.

You begin by tracing your fingers along your inner thigh, using your free hand to cup your breast as well; Taron watches you silently, his eyebrows furrowed in solemn contemplation. You bite your lip, and slide your hand to finally graze your fingertips over your clit.

“Finger yourself,” Taron commands, leaning forwards and pushing your legs wider so he could see. “Stop messing about, and do it. I paid for this room for the hour, we are going to spend it wisely.”

“I...I usually use my vibrator,” you reply, meekly. “But I’ll try.”

When Taron does not speak again, you slip two fingers into your entrance, knowing not to waste time in the mood that Taron is in; you pump your fingers slowly, keeping your eyes on him. He tips his head back, watching you carefully, as if he is trying to solve a problem with a difficult solution. You bite your lip, bringing your other hand to begin to rub your clit at a slow pace, still not taking your eyes off of Taron.

Finally, Taron nods his head, reaching down to remove his erection from his slacks again; licking the palm of his hand, he gives languid strokes over his length while he studies you. You smile slyly, knowing that he is finally beginning to lose focus. Even as he tries to remain composed, you notice a small quirk of the corner of his mouth when he sees your face.

Your pace quickens, and you see that Taron increases the speed of his hand to match your movements. Scooting your body closer to the edge of the bed, you put one of your feet to the side table and test Taron by putting your other foot against the armrest of his chair, effectively spreading your legs wide in front of him.

“Does it feel good?” Taron asks, his voice quick and deep.

“You can do it better,” you breathe. Taron chuckles softly, but it turns into a small gasp as a visible chill runs through his body. “You look so sexy like that, Taron,” you push. “I want you to keep your clothes on while you fuck me.”

You can tell from the look on Taron’s face that he is struggling not to take you right there; it only adds fuel to the fire for you to keep pushing. You pull your fingers out and sit up in your spot; you notice the way that Taron licks his lips when you trace your fingers through your folds, so you hold your hand out towards him. The corner of his mouth pulls up into a smirk, not stopping his strokes as he sits forward towards your hand.

To call your bluff, Taron opens his mouth and sticks his tongue out, peering at you as he waits for you to make the next move. With a grin of your own, you slip your two fingers into his mouth, and allow him to lick the taste of you from them.

“Fuck, Taron,” you whisper.

The man quickly pulls away, shoving you onto your back again and stands from his seat, kicking the chair backwards. Not once stopping his steady jerking motions over his erection, he kneels on the ground in front of you and buries his face between your thighs. You let out a shocked gasp, your hand immediately grasping his hair to keep him close.

Taron is moaning against you, licking up to your clit so he could suck on it; looking down at him, you can see his eyes closed and his arm in motion, still stroking himself leisurely. Much to your disappointment, he does not spend much time between your thighs, and when he sits back and peers into your eyes, you do not hold back your whine.

“Don’t stop,” you plead, cupping his face.

“Now, now,” he replies, kissing the palm of your hand. “We both know I can spend all night down here.” He stands up, and walks around the bed so he could climb onto the other side; you turn around onto your hands and knees so you can watch him when he props himself up against the headboard. “But now is not the time for that,” he adds. “Get over here. Work for it.”

You crawl to his open arms, and straddle his thighs, wasting no time in reaching down to slide him inside of you. Taron hums his approval at the feeling of you surrounding him, and his eyes slip closed. You slowly begin to rock in his lap, back and forth carefully as you set your hands on his shoulders to keep steady.

“Tight for a dirty girl who likes to finger herself when I’m not around,” he whispers, a small smirk on his lips. You lean in, taking your opportunity to finally kiss him and immediately tasting yourself on his tongue. Taron uses your distracted state to take hold of your hips and rock you faster on his lap, letting a frustrated groan into your mouth when you do not move as fast as he would like. “I’ll flip you over and fuck you properly if you don’t start moving,” he warns, breaking the kiss.

You smirk at him, reaching behind you and grabbing onto his legs so you can support your movements. You quickly begin to bounce in his lap, closing your eyes and dropping your head back so you can focus on the feeling. Taron is already groaning softly, his hands taking hold of your thighs so he can dig his fingers into them.

“That’s it,” he whispers, and you feel him begin to rub your clit along with your actions. You moan out, already feeling your orgasm working through your body. “I can tell you’re close,” he mutters.

“Mmhmm,” you hum, moving back towards Taron. You grab a handful of his shirt and bury your face in his neck as you continue to bounce over him, faster with each passing moment. You moan, a noise that is needier than you have ever heard yourself, and it is muffled against Taron’s skin. You feel Taron grab your backside, helping you keep your pace as your orgasm hits you.

You try to keep going after you ride out your orgasm, but your legs tremble already; with a laugh, Taron wraps his other arm around you and flips you onto your back. He pushes himself back into you, both of you letting out quiet moans from how tight you are around him. Helping you hook your legs around his back, Taron starts to work in and out of you again, slower than before.

“You are squeezing me so tight, I don’t know how much longer I’ll be able to last.”

You wrap your arms around Taron’s back, pulling him down on top of you so you can put your face against his neck again. Taron supports his weight on his arms beneath you, one hand catching into your hair to keep you close. You brace yourself against Taron as you know what is going to happen: Taron’s hips piston against you at a violent pace, each thrust burying you deeper into the mattress. You fist handfuls of his shirt, desperate for him, moaning louder against his skin.

“So good,” he breathes.

You try to move your hips against Taron’s but his movements are so hard and forceful that he keeps you held down hard on the mattress. When he begins to stifle moans in your ear, you know that he is near his climax; you want to speak, to help him get closer, but you are incapable of speaking because Taron is thrusting harder than he ever had before.

The grunts and groans along with the speed of the forceful motions of his hips help you realize that he is claiming you, reminding you that you belong to him and no one else is allowed to touch you. With your head spinning, you feel your second climax creeping in your stomach, a slow, almost numb feeling starting to work around your limbs.

“Oh, God, Taron,” you moaned. “Baby, please don’t stop.” He grunts, seeming to move even harder when you thread your fingers through his hair and tug on it.

You do not realize what you are doing when you bite Taron’s neck to stifle your screams of pleasure, but you climax harder than you ever have, your entire body trembling. Taron is panting and moaning, letting out curses that are mixed with your name when he comes deep inside of you, both of you riding out the waves of your orgasms.

You let go of Taron, going limp on the bed while he stays on top of you, breathing heavily. Neither of you make any effort to move at first, until Taron finally rolls off to lay beside you so you are both staring at the ceiling.

“Jesus,” you whisper.

“Did you leave a mark, Dracula?” Taron rasps. You tilt your head lazily to the side, watching Taron trace his fingertips over the bite mark that you had given him.

“Oh, whoops,” you laugh. “You’ve never fucked me that hard before, I was in another world.” Taron laughs softly, slipping himself back into his slacks, and looking down at them.

“You’ve made a bit of a mess.” You look towards the crotch of his slacks to see what he was referring to, and you laugh once more.

“That quiet and dominant thing you were doing at the start,” you begin, nodding your head. “It was seriously working for me.”

“Thought I might try something new,” he explains. “I lost it somewhere around the middle.”

“We can work on it,” you say. “By the way, how did you even know that I was touching myself when you weren’t here?”

“I decided to give you a ring a few days ago,” he laughs. “I can only assume you leaned on your phone in the throes of passion, because I could hear your moans and my voice in the background.”

“Yikes.”

“Mmhm,” Taron hums, rolling over to kiss you softly. “Kingsman, I would guess. I know what that one does for you.” You chuckle, pressing your face to his chest when he wraps one arm around your body. “Get dressed,” he whispers, slapping you on your backside. “We’ll check out, go home, and take a long, hot shower together.”

“Mmm, that sounds nice. I need to relax.”

“Now, I didn’t say anything about relaxing just yet; I’m not quite sure you’ve learned your lesson.”


End file.
